


bitter

by lobotomutt



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicide, Other, pre-neo world program
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lobotomutt/pseuds/lobotomutt
Summary: “Mahiru Koizumi. I can’t believe your sorry ass is still alive.”





	

Mahiru stopped in her tracks when she saw  _ him.  _

Yes, just him. She remembered his name and what he looked like, of course, but she also remembered clear as day what he’d done. What his  _ sister  _ had done. Both of them had taken something from her, both had hurt her in ways that she wished she could forget. His sister she could forgive to a degree, but this particular boy?

 

She’d  _ never _ forgive him for what he’d done to her.

 

Apparently, her look alone came off as threatening. The boy whirled around and turned to face her. His one eye was an ominous milky white in color, likely caused by the fact that it had originally belonged to someone other than himself. The other was a pale green in color and squinted with rage- though it appeared to be unfamiliar with Mahiru. The yakuza tensed up and pulled his scarred lips back into a snarl. “What the  _ fuck  _ are you lookin’ at?”

His voice was ragged, as usual. He swaggered over to the offending photographer and shoved his hands into his pant pockets. Instinctively, Mahiru drew back and fixed him with a hard and cold stare. She clenched her jaw shut and curled her hand into a fist in an attempt to calm herself down as much as possible. A good part of her was tempted to slit his throat right then and there and wipe the miserable fuck off the face of this earth, but she decided against it.

She was much more refined than that- she wouldn’t stoop to the brutish levels of the rest of them. Apparently Kuzuryuu was not intending on stopping his advance. Soon enough, the shorter yakuza was up in her face. His brow furrowed in frustration and he was about to bark out a command for the redhead to introduce herself to him- when he stopped. Slowly, recognition flooded over his features and his lips pulled back into a sickening grin.

“Mahiru Koizumi. I can’t believe your sorry ass is still alive.” The blond mused as he stepped backwards a little bit. The glint in his living eye was sadistic at best. Mahiru could already tell he knew what he’d done, and why she looked so indifferent towards him. “You’re the one behind th’ suicides, are you? The prissy bitch that can’t get her hands dirty?” He practically cooed out. His voice had dropped to a low and casual rumble in the back of his throat. Eventually, the casual hum in the back of his throat turned into a round of short-lived laughter.

“Or, well, that’s what I would say. But  _ I  _ know what you did.” As if a flip were switched in his mind, Kuzuryuu’s soft and casual words shifted to anger within an instant. His stare was blistering once more and Mahiru could damn well feel a hole being burned into her. “You didn’t report shit to the authorities. You let that  _ bitch  _ get away with it-”

 

Mahiru’s own anger flared. The normally calm and collected photographer stood up straight and stared the shorter blond down. “That  _ bitch  _ was my best friend.” She seethed in response. Her tone was darker than usual but just as stern. “And  _ you _ killed her.” She tacked on seconds later, some hurt managing to slip into her voice. Even just thinking back to what had happened to Sato was enough to twist her heart the wrong way. She felt an uncomfortable stabbing sensation in the center of her chest that eventually pulsated out and throughout her entire body, leaving her feeling numb and almost sick. Her throat dried out and she felt the uncomfortable stinging sensation of oncoming tears in her sinuses.

Her fist clenched even tighter than it had been before as a memory- one that she’d come to loathe, made its way into the back of her mind. Sato. She was slumped against a wall with her head cracked clean open. There was no point in begging her to wake up, no point in rushing to her side to see if she was alright- Mahiru knew the instant her eyes fell on the girl that she was dead. It was a… heartbreaking moment, to say the least. It took everything in her power to stop herself from breaking down and  _ sobbing  _ right there on the spot. She’d never felt that scared, that  _ alone  _ in her entire life.

That was, likely, the first time she’d ever felt true despair. While Junko constantly insisted that she’d come to relish and enjoy the feeling, she never adapted a liking to that horrible, goddamn sinking feeling in her chest that ripped her very being apart and pushed her to hysterics. It pushed her to doing things no sane girl her age would ever imagine doing.

It pushed her to kill the only other person she loved as much as she’d loved Sato. It pushed her to kill her hero in life.

 

Apparently, Kuzuryuu had taken note of the pain that clouded over her eyes. The yakuza snickered and backed away from the defensive, hurting girl and crossed his arms over his back. “She was a filthy murderer in th’ first place, y’know.” The blond remarked, his voice dripping with amusement. “Not like you, though, huh? Not like you at all.” He rolled his eye and turned to face her again. Mahiru’s expression was scrunched into a bitter scowl.

“No, you’re worse than a flatout murderer.” He suddenly whirled around to face her again. “Y’blackmail them. Anyone. Doesn’t matter who, right? They wrong you, you dig up shit on them, and push ‘em to suicide. Y’don’t force them to, y’talk them into it.” He paused to chuckle softly, “Bet’cha would’ve done that to my sister if she were still  _ alive,  _ wouldn’t you? You’d remind her of what she’d done- push her to kill herself, huh?” His voice had dropped again, anger slowly seeping back into his words. “How would you do it, if she was alive? What would you say to her? What-”

Mahiru wasn’t thinking when she lifted her hand up and lashed out at the one-eyed boy. Her hand made contact with the side of his cheek and with a loud ‘smack’ and a yelp from the other boy it registered what she’d done. She’d slapped the boy straight across the face. Afterwards, her lips twitched back into an animalistic snarl.

“Shut the hell up, Kuzuryuu.” She seethed, “Shut the  _ hell  _ up.”

Her hazel eyes were blistering with rage as she watched the boy lift one of his hands to his now red cheek. She watched the boy’s expression change from one of shock to one of rage- a rage almost comparable to her right now. He suddenly pulled his own hand back and curled it into a fist. Mahiru’s eyes flitted over the slight, metallic glint along his fingers and she instantly lifted her good hand up. With ease, the photographer caught his wrist before his brass knuckles could split the bridge of her nose open.

“ _ Don’t you fuckin’ touch me. _ ” The boy hissed as he violently wrenched his wrist out of her grasp and pulled away from her. Mahiru pulled her own hand away from him and took a defensive step back, her eyes narrowed. SHe stared at him coldly as he turned and began to walk away- her stare burning a hole in the shorter boy’s back. It didn’t take long, however, before Mahiru’s fury disappeared. The words he spat out caused the redhead to stumble backwards and flinch.

“No wonder your whore of a mother killed herself.” He spat, “I’d kill myself, too, if my daughter was the kind of manipulative bitch that you were.” She could practically taste the devilish smirk on his face. He knew exactly what had happened that lead to her mother’s hanging.

 

He’d seen the photograph on Mahiru’s camera, after all.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> this's about a year old but sonia wanted me to put it up so  
> throws confetti  
> how much of this has been debunk'd bc of dr3


End file.
